Like a Star
by Urimizo
Summary: Katia Managan, adventurer extraordinaire, seeks a new life in Cyrodiil. After finally finding a foothold in this unfamiliar land, it seems she must once again have to struggle just to live. But is her life really worth fighting for?


Your name is Katia Managan, and suffice to say you're not really what some would call a "well respected, dependable, or refuted" member of society, but it's fine! You've overcome obstacles you're sure most people would have died tragically in! You let your actions speak for you, and while your former self in the past would have broken down in the midst of all of this, cried herself to sleep in amongst a bunch of washed up bums in rags (afterwards probably sleeping with one of them), and waking up the next morning after apparently sleeping with the aforementioned bums, you don't let any task get the better of you!

Since your recent migration to Cyrodiil a few weeks back, you've had more adventures than your whole past life could have imagined! You've explored cities, dungeons (almost dying horribly), done a few errands for folks (failing miserably every time), and even discovered you were a FREAKING WIZARD!

Biggums Al'groth wrote:

Aren't female magic users called witches?

Okay yes, voice inside of your head. Technically you are a witch, but: YOU ARE A FREAKING WITCH! You can control magic! That was the one thing you've dreamed about for your entire life! Before you assumed only old dudes with beards were able to harness the power of magicka, but all it took was an accidental spark from an ayleid well to give you the chance at _becoming something._ Now you don't have to wander trails and forests anymore with fear of getting jumped by traveling marauders or bandits or anything! You're Katia Fucking Managan! You can do anything!

Fridge Largemeat wrote:

That's great and everything, but we're still poor as dirt and have no food.

Okay, well becoming the greatest wiz- er, witch in all of Cyrodiil means you have to be the worst at some point, right? At least that sounds about right. You haven't really had a decent meal in a few days, not everyone in this town was as accepting of a homeless Khajiit cat with barely anything to her name. The local innkeepers wouldn't supply you with any possible chores or deliveries to perform, which was your major source of income for a while there, even if you sucked at it. Even the general stores had no meager rations to share! One of them even threatened to turn you into a rug! The thought of lying on someone's living room floor for the rest of eternity doesn't sit well in your stomach. The only hospitality you've received was from the local Church of Akatosh, and that was only from a priestess who blasted you with a few healing spells. You refueled your magicka supply and made a nice acquaintance with someone who didn't automatically consider you to be a slutty alcoholic cat.

Q wrote:

Don't the barrels around town carry thrown out scraps of food in 'em?

You already tried that approach. Bums don't take to kindly when their barrels are being "trespassed on." You figure getting into a fight with a toothless drunk over a head of cabbage isn't the best way to build up your reputation.

Odin wrote:

Katia, you're a cat! Why not just go hunt for food like your native ancestors?

You're not quite so sure if that was supposed to be a slide at insulting you directly, but you do have to admit the thrill of barrel searching for food any longer is starting to grow dull. So you decide to wander the neighboring foothills to see what you can find!

You scavenge around for a couple of hours, hoping to find a berry bush or something to snack on. Maybe even a stream to catch a few fish. The thought of actually hunting your own meal is the only thing keeping your ravenous hunger from slowly taking over your completely normal train of thought.

Kesh'it wrote:

Katia, you take advice from voices in your head. Also, what about berries and fish? Don't you think Katia Fucking Managan deserves a meal with a bit more substance?

Okay alright you're not exactly "normal" by normal standards, but no one can exactly be "perfectly normal" can they? By the world's logic that would make them "not normal" which would make them normal, which would make them not normal which wou-

Orgash wrote:

JUST GET SOME FREAKING FISH.

TO THE RIVER.

Your keen sense of hearing allows you to pick up the noise of running water. You dash into the forest with haste until you come across a babbling stream. The water is so clear you can easily tell the depth to be no more than a few feet, and even make out a few salmon (or what you judge to be salmon) swimming right in front of you! Now to just get a few materials together to make a fishing lure.

Doranth wrote:

Look through your pack and see what you can meld together.

Using a bit of yarn and a large branch you found, you fashion yourself a crappy makeshift fishing rod!

You can already taste those fish's dying hopes.

Malkreth wrote:

Cast fireballs at the water.

Kill fish and cook it at the same time.

Scoop up and enjoy!

While that does sound like a nice way to practice your magic, you're not really in the mood to assault yourself with half-wit cat puns. Your buzz from creating this rinky-dink fishing rod has your spirits too high to think up any good ones. Plus you don't want to waste any of your available magicka supply while you've still got it.

You find a nice cozy place to sit while you cast your line in the water. One thing you remember from your days as a child was that fishing was a patient man's game. If you wanted to eat, you would have to _earn_ it. Something about this concept brought a gleaming smile to you. After everything horrible and shitty in your life, all those hardships you've endured in the past, they're all behind you! You're now fishing on the edge of a river bank, _relaxing!_ For the first time in your life you've got at least a firm handle on your life! You're actually working to get your own food, and will be rewarded with a nice cooked fish for your efforts! Maybe even more if you're lucky! You're so excited you're shaking with glee!

Die wrote:

Don't shake the lure; it will scare the fish away.

Speaking of which, don't you need a lure to fish?

Way ahead of you! You decided to grab a few beetles you found near the rock you're currently sitting on and tie them at the end of the string of yarn. Looking back you're pretty sure you could've attached a hook or something on the end, but that probably wouldn't have helped your chances at all. Probably. Anyway the fish don't seem to be biting right now so you decide to go out and stretch your legs a bit, some exercise might do you some good and you might even find some little snacks to drive away that gnawing hunger in your stomach.

You wander into the woods a ways in, admiring the beauty of nature. It occurred to you you've never actually stopped and ADMIRED NATURE before. You recall not having a real good relationship with it actually, what with you accidentally setting it ablaze with your chaotic fire powers, and it trying to kill you after being set ablaze. It feels weird; you haven't had a drop of alcohol in weeks. Sure you'd LIKE a drink, but you don't NEED it. Could it be all of the life threatening and tragic experiences made you stronger willed and a better person as a result?

You like to think so.

Through the break in the trees, you spot a plume of smoke rising over a hilltop. Because of your prior experiences with smoke = you igniting something with your freakish magic talents, you run up to see a cozy looking cottage, a home! And it's not on fire! You wonder if you should see if anyone is home, meeting new acquaintances is a great way to learn information and possibly see if they have any menial tasks you could do for a few septims. You do admit you're not in the best economic situation right now.

Xavier wrote:

A small cottage out in the middle of nowhere? With your string of luck it'll probably be a trap set up by the Dark Brotherhood to lure in somebody else so they can brutally kill them with like a pitfall of spikes and snakes.

You really don't think that somebody would go through all the trouble of constructing a house in the middle of the forest just for the sake of killing some someone. Also, isn't the Dark Brotherhood a myth?

Kil'Reev wrote:

GO OUT AND MAKE FRIENDS!

Can't argue with that!

As you approach the wooden door, the smell of meats and stew enters your nose. Your current situation of starving leads you hoping whoever is at home is willing to let you sit down and share some food with them. Maybe it's an old Dunmer who has retired to the relaxing wilderness to live out her golden years? Or perhaps a strong-backed woodsman who decided life in the city was too comfy for his desires. Your mind wanders as you peer in through the door and let yourself in. The fumes of a stewing broth warm your mind and excite your tongue glands as you almost begin to absentmindedly drool.

Hello? You call once more. You apologize for letting yourself in, but you were curious to see who could be out here and you're hungry and you say your feet hurt a little from all the walking and you should probably shut up right now.

Shadows across the wall leap about as the figure of a Redguard rises up from a chair, looking at your with an inquiring interest.

Who said you could come and barge in other people's houses? The dark-skinned man sounded pretty upset seeing as you did just walk into his house, knowing a normal person wouldn't appreciate strangers just waltzing into their house uninvited. At least that's what you think normal people think.

I'm sorry. You say, along with a bunch of other apologies before further explaining you were just wandering the woods hoping to catch some food before the smell of his cooking drew you towards his cabin. You point at your sensitive nose which picked up the trail of his alluring aroma.

The man examines your nose for a second before stepping back and smiling. Well I am the best chef in these parts of the woods! He says, laughing. You let out a meek little laugh as well hoping that your nerves calm down. He introduces himself as Roderick and continues further by showing you around his humble abode. He explains that he's lived in the forests outside of town for years, hunting and scavenging and living a true outdoors man's dream. His skills as a hunter and carpenter have given him a life of luxury not many could experience living in those disgusting, crowded slums they call city housing. He then asks you what you're doing this far away from the guard protected roads.

Kragdor wrote:

Make up something that doesn't make you sound totally lame.

Hey! You're not la- okay maybe you are a little, but you've changed! You explain that you were "setting up camp" when you decided to go "hunting" and then you found his house. Yeah, that's exactly how it went! He admires your spirit of living the outdoor experience, and walks you through his house.

A lot of it is exactly what you'd expect a hunter to furnish his houses with, pelts of wolves and bears and tigers adorn the walls and floors. Your feet tickle as you walk on the bear pelt covering part of the floor. Beds are covered with woolen blankets, woven sheets, and...fur pillows. More animal pelts hang from the walls and are being used as curtains...a little weird, but creative! The heads of slain beasts hang up on the mantle in front of his fireplace, showing a rather grisly looking scene in the flame-lit room. Their faces are frozen in positions showing a mindless fierceness that makes it look like their gazes pierce through your very essence. Your fur stands up on end as you nervously sit down in one of his fur-lined chairs, this man certainly does like his animal skins. He excuses himself while he exits the room to prepare the stew for the both of you.

Beefcake wrote:

Get the fuck outta there, Katia. NOW.

While you would like to, it would be rather rude to just get up and leave! Especially since it's a free home-cooked meal! Sure the dead animal carcasses adorning just about every square inch of wall, floor, and ceiling makes you a bit tense, but what else would a hunter use to furnish a house?

Still, the "fox skull" cup-holder he placed on the stand next to you is making a compelling argument for your departure.

Malkai wrote:

Just excuse yourself, say you have an errand to run. Didn't that shopkeeper from earlier give you that quest to go hunt for some ingredients?

You debate for a second on whether you'd rather go pick some poisonous mushrooms than spend another minute in this creepy house of dead animals when your growling stomach impedes your thoughts. He can probably wait for those mushrooms to enact whatever revenge scheme he had in mind for a different day, you need to eat something now. Whatever that Redguard was cooking sure smells great! You hear him setting up the table behind you, laying out the silverwa- okay now you know those spoons are made out of bones.

You laugh impishly as you stand up, trying to come up with the best made up on-the-spot-bullshit-story about how that shopkeeper REALLY, REALLY needs those mushrooms as you back away towards the door. The dark-skinned man stares coldly at you, brandishing a butcher's knife he was using earlier as you freeze in terror.

Just more of a reason for you to sit down and have a nice meal with him!

Xavier wrote:

Just eat your food really fast and then get out of there!

You're trying to, and while this stew is REALLY FUCKING AMAZING, the broth is thick and the meat is gamey. Your jaw is cramping just from having to chew so much, even with your teeth that were made for this sort of thing! You begin to think you've grown accustomed to having your food more thoroughly cooked, but Roderick seems to not even notice, calmly wolfing down his food. You take a piece of bread and break it in half, using it to soak up some of the stew before popping that in your mouth. Oh God it's like an orgasm in your mouth right now.

So...Katia, is it? What's your experience in hunting? Roderick asks, breaking the silence you were growing fond of. Do you normally like to surprise your prey? Shooting at it from afar or sneaking up behind it before slicing its neck? Or are you more of an endurance hunter? You run after your prey until they fall over and die from exhaustion?

Odin wrote:

Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck HE'S PSYCHOTIC.

Kesh'It wrote:

He probably frowns upon using magic as a form of fighting. Just say you sneak up on stuff. You're a cat so that'll probably make sense!

You finish the last of your bread before stammering out that you normally like to sneak if you're looking for "prey." You leave out the part where you actually try to sneak _around_ your target. Roderick looks at you inquisitively and nods his head. He picks up his plate, removes the rest of the dinnerware from the table, and tells you to wait here while he puts it away. You guess now's probably a good time to leave.

You sit up and inch silently toward the doorway behind you. Your knees begin to shake as you edge yourself closer to the door out of this madhouse. Your arm stretches out as you clutch the bronzed nob in your paw, you go to turn it and run out as fast as you can.

Just as you can make out the very line of the outside world, an arrow skims your cheek and sticks itself in the door, throwing it open. Instead of darting out into the freedom of the open air, your body freezes up as you slowly turn and look to see Roderick behind you, bow in hand.

Should've figured you aren't an actual hunter! I could hear you leaving all the way in the kitchen! It's survival of the fittest in these parts Khajiit, and if you aren't surviving, you're dying!

Biggums Al'Groth wrote:

RUN, FUCKING RUN!

Your body decides now would be the best time to not get shot in the neck with an arrow and become a pair of slippers for this maniac. You dart out quickly, running in any motion and direction you think will help you avoid being an easier target. The air behind you is sliced as steel-tipped arrows wiz by you with alarming accuracy, barely missing you by inches. FUCK FUCK FUCK GOTTA FIND SOMEWHERE TO HIDE

Kil'Reev wrote:

Head into the forest! It'll be harder to hit you with all the trees!

Great idea! The forest, while giving you an extra bit of cover, did little to slow down the Redguard and his storm of arrows.

You'll make a fine pair of slippers, cat! You hear him yell a ways behind you.

Hey, you were right! He was going to make you into a pair of- THAT IS A TERRIBLE THING TO BE PROUD OF.

The trees seem to blend together creating a brown and green blur as you protect your face from the whipping branches all-the-while trying not to be shot by William Fucking Tell behind you. Your arms hurt from the branches, your feet hurt from running over rocks and roots, and dammit you shouldn't have eaten all that soup right before running cross country.

As your mind is verbally assaulting you, your eyes get drawn away from that rather sturdy looking branch just ahead of you. Before you have any chance to react, it catches you by the neck and you literally do a spin and slam back onto the forest floor knocking the wind out of your chest.

FUCK.

You try to get up until you feel something hit you in your shoulder, followed by a sharp pain that makes you fall to your knees.

He...he just _shot_ me. Your mind rapidly alerts your body to keep moving, but your limbs refuse to move anymore. You look over as you can see the wooden arrow LODGED into your shoulder, a steady stream of blood coming forth from the wound. The adrenaline that was pushing you to run was now being used to null down the pain, which was helping very little.

Oh fuck I'm going to die; he's going to kill me!

The approaching footsteps make the stew in your stomach churn as your attacker finally catches up to you. His staggered breathing is then replaced by a fit of laughter.

You had me going on quite a run! THIS is the type of hunting I truly love! Beast against man in a fight for survival! It really gets my blood going!

Okay, this guy is a Grade-A complete fucking lunatic. You try to get up and run, but the arrow in your shoulder reminded your body how not so good of an idea that was as you yelp out in pain and fall again.

Kronos wrote:

Use your eye of fear and run away!

You've considered that, but what good will that do? This guy has looked in the maws of countless animals two, maybe even three or four times your size that could kill him in a swipe, and he took them down. This is a man who has looked at death in the face and then punched him in the jaw. What would a bleeding, shaking little cat like you do? You'd make yourself look even more foolish for attempting to save your life. And what kind of life have you led? Every time something seems to be going your way, Mother Nature or whatever Divine Spirit out there seems to want to take all of that and crumple it up into a ball, smash it under their heel, and then give it back expecting you to feel accomplished for even coming out of it alive.

You've let the few friends you know down, proving you're a letdown and a terrible person at that. Your luck has led you from one disaster to another, from failing even the most simple delivery tasks to letting some uptight minx con you into handing her all of your belongings! You've talked yourself into continuing on more times than you can count, just to talk yourself into failing once more! Every road you've taken has led you into a deeper hole! If you could just do ONE THING RIGHT! Just ONCE you'd like a day to end with you actually happy, and proud of what you've done! Instead here you are, at the feet of some deranged huntsman gleaming with the same wild-eyed grin as a man who has tasted victory before. Just ONCE, you'd like to be that. To taste victory, and SAVOR it, but as it seems, the only thing you'll be tasting is a steel-tipped arrow going through your skull in a few seconds.

Clyde wrote:

Katia, before you bite the big one, I've got a question. Have you ever considered turning all that mopey, angsty depression…into anger?

…

…

What?

Clyde wrote:

Just hear this out. You've been dealing with setback after countless setbacks ever since you've arrived to Cyrodiil. All you wanted was a change from your shitty existence back home. That has been your whole reason for coming here.

…Go on…

Rip Sideiron wrote:

For whatever reason, the Gods of Luck have decided to test your patience with them. You've been mugged by bandits, you've almost killed yourself with your own powers, and you just barely made it out of a collapsing ruin.

Yeah and you've also messed up menial tasks the lowest of society could do. You're not sure how making yourself more depressed in the face of death could improve your situation in anyway.

Beefcake wrote:  
Dammit, Katia! That's just it! In all the time of you being in Cyrodiil, you've been screwed over, whether by your own decisions or because of somebody else. Gharug stole all of your stuff because you were weak, Sigrid convinced you into handing over what little possessions you had on you because you were weak-minded. People have been taking advantage of you because you refuse to stand up for yourself and PROVE that you're someone to take seriously! At least try and prove that your life is worth FIGHTING FOR!

You've…you've never actually thought about it like that before. It's true, in times of peril you've found it easier to flee or to get drunk as a method of solving your problems, and that never really did settle them well. It only added more onto your platter. But…is your life actually _worth_ fighting for? What do you have to offer to the world, to _yourself?_

Crunch Beeftip wrote:

What does anyone have to offer, Katia? Look at you; you've done so much in the short time you've been in Cyrodiil. You've discovered your dream of becoming a magic user; you've attended a fancy dinner and got over your fear of royalty! You offer potential and hope, Katia. You've fought tooth and nail for a better life for yourself, something every person should have a right to do! Don't let this man take that away from you!

You're…you're right. All your life the only thing you've wanted is for your life to improve in just _some way_. You sought Cyrodiil as a way of escaping your seedy past. You had such high hopes here, hopes of making a better person out of yourself. Yet, fate has constantly stepped on you since you got here! Just once you wanted the Gods to give you a break and actually let you accomplish something, but no! You've had to struggle for everything you've earned thus far! When you wanted to help Quill-Weave, you wanted to prove you could do that and more! It seemed so simple and yet as soon as you could see the end in sight, you manage to fuck it all up! You've accepted you're not the most graceful or respectable person in Cyrodiil, but dammit you've tried!

How dare this guy try to kill you? After all the work you've done!

Fridge Largemeat wrote:

That's it, Katia! Turn that anger into power!

You think you can hunt me down, and slay me like I'm some kind of overgrown rat? You think I'm just going to lay down and die!

Bubba Frank wrote:

Keep going Katia; show him what you're made of!

I'm not just some kind of trashy whore you can just do away with! That part of my life is over! I am a living creature with…with friends and responsibilities! I won't let you do away with me like I'm nothing, because I AM NOT NOTHING! You stand up, teeth bared, and claws out, it's fucking go time. DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?

Odin, Fridge Largemeat, Beefcake, Kesh'It, Rip Sideiron, Biggums Al'Groth, Doranth, Orgash, Kil'Reev, and Xavier wrote:

YOU ARE KATIA.

FUCKING.

MANAGAN!

I AM KATIA-!

…

Ow…

Ow!...

OWWW! He just…he just _shot my hand!_ Oh Gods I can see the arrow! It went _through_ my hand! Oh Gods oh Gods it hurts! You fall to your knees trembling and clutching your wounded hand in agony. All-the-while Roderick laughs mockingly at your sobbing.

Who do I think you are? You're nothing but a mangy little furball who got high on moon sugar once and decided to become something far greater than you could ever be! You're a pathetic excuse of a housecat who would probably spread her legs for a stuffed mouse or…or a ball of yarn! You're not a hunter, you're not "Katia Fucking Managan," you don't DESERVE that title! All you deserve is an arrow through the eyes and a spot on my mantle!

Okay, that hurt. A lot. You expect your eyes to water and the warm cascade of tears to be the last feeling you get to enjoy before a quick death, but…they don't come. A different warmness starts to envelope you, from _inside_ of you this time. What is this?

You…you don't know me. I don't _care_ what you think of me…

Did…did you just say that? You don't remember even moving your lips to part out the words, but that warming sensation is building even more. Both of your arms are beginning to shake, but not due to the pain. That subsided a bit ago though you don't remember exactly when. Your ears stand up and you see that your claws are exposed far longer than they have ever been before.

Do you think I give a DAMN about your opinion, or anyone else's? I never asked to be in this situation! I never wanted shit to go wrong in the most heinous of ways. I never wanted each day to be a constant roulette on whether I survive with my dignity still intact!

A ball of fire forms in your paw; you can feel your magicka flow through your blood as if it was a natural occurrence. The ball begins to grow brighter and larger as you continue.

It is because of people like YOU that I have to second guess who I have to trust! It's because of people like YOU that I have these nagging voices in my head telling me what to do! I may be crazy, I may be a whore, and an alcoholic, and I may screw up every chance I get at making friends, but I'm fucking trying my best with what I've got! And it's people like you that are repeatedly trying to screw over everything I'm trying to improve in myself and in my life!

That glowing orb of fire in your palm now begins to envelope your arm. The heat doesn't affect you bewilderingly. In fact, you don't really seem to have control over yourself. It's like you're staring at yourself, and yet you're looking through your own eyes. The Redguard seems to be just as confused as you are as he has completely lost all sense of triumph in his composure.

Kil'Reev:

Be that Roderick fellow.

You are now Roderick; your hobbies include being outdoors, hunting and foraging the local wilderness, and killing the occasional passerby through a bizarre game of hide and seek. You are now positively sure you have no freaking clue what is happening now.

When did this cat learn how to use FIRE? Better yet, why is _she on fire now?_ Don't normally wizards in robes with long, flowing beards only know how to do that stuff? At least that was how you were taught by your parents, who raised you to become the man you are today. When you were old enough to take the world on your own, you killed them, turned them into stew, and then fed them to a passing Dark Elf who was lost looking for the nearest town. You killed and ate him too. A shame though as he was the first person you ever considered a friend, and the third person you ever considered food.

No matter! One of life's great rules, as taught by your knowledgeable father; was that if you were ever in danger, all you had to do was shoot more arrows! You reach to your quiver strapped to your back and…you've ran out of arrows. You think about asking the Khajiit-whom-you-just-tried-to-kill-and-is-now-on-fire if you could pull out the ones in her shoulder and hand, but you don't think she'd be inclined into doing so. Now she's on fire, shouting profanities and other stuff you're not really sure of.

You're going to turn me into a pair of slippers? I'll turn you into a charcoal briquette!

Commence trouser wetting.

Biggums wrote:

Let's go back to being the kitty cat on fire.

You're back to being the kitty cat on fire. Now, the flames from your left arm have spread over and consumed your right arm as your rage continues to build. Every cat pun you've ever had to endure, every snide comment a passerby has given, every glare, threat, EVERYTHING that has ever made you sad you've turned into raw anger, which is now turning you into a kind of Khajiit/Flame Atronach hybrid.

I WILL NOT BE PUSHED AROUND ANYMORE! The flames growing so large that the leaves above you turn to ash and the trees around you singe as the temperature escalates even further. The red and orange begins to expand, transforming into an expanding volume of fire. All of that anger you've kept inside of you this entire time has finally found an outlet.

I am, and will forever be known as KATIA MANAGAN!

Orgash wrote:

Tell him to eat a dick.

GO EAT A DICK!

You thrust out your arms and in a display that can only be called "beautiful, cataclysmic destruction," the fire around your arms shoots out at the surprised Redguard. Every single ounce of magicka you feel in your body is being expelled out through your palms in an array of pure anger. Every single tear you've shed, all those times you've curled up in a corner and cried, each time you've used alcohol as a deterrent from the real world; all of it is being used as fuel to keep the flames from burning out. This time, you want to cherish your victory; you don't want to give up this feeling, of finally achieving. You want to lengthen it out as long as possible. No amount of alcohol could substitute this euphoria you're experiencing.

Pretty soon, your arms grow tired, the flames begin to flicker out, and you begin to gain composure over yourself. As the last of your magicka runs out, you open your eyes to see the charred and obliterated path you burned through the forest. What's left of Roderick is the most basic forms of matter turned into the tiniest particles of dust.

You_ killed him._ You killed a person! You feel like you should be guilty but…you don't know how you should feel. You need to sit down and think about what the hell just happened.

With the sun setting over the horizon, the blue and black streaks of nightfall mix with the orange and yellows. You wander the forest until you find a familiar path from earlier in the day. Following that, you find your makeshift campsite, everything is where it was from earlier, albeit your fishing pole and beetles. You sum up the fish eventually just took the whole pole into the water and the bait-beetles just wondered off. You're not in the mood to fish anyway.

Sitting down on a rock, you rest your good hand under your chin and look at you wounded one. Thanks to the heat, the wound shut itself while burning the arrow at the same time. It hurts a bit, but you want to wait until the morning to make sure if nothing if broken. Speaking of which, what was THAT? That fire that you just conjured up? Just a few weeks earlier you were learning just how to throw a fireball, but back there you were COVERED in fireballs. All you remember is feeling very, very angry before that whole "shoot up in flames" thing went down.

Kesh'It wrote:

Maybe that was fueled by your rage? Fire is generally known to be associated with anger.

Well at least the voices in your head are back, that means you're still your crazy old self. But that does make sense; generally you've broken down or gave up when the situation looked bleak. But back there you were…different. You showed that you did not run away, you didn't just cry and give up.

You took on your foe, _and won._ You killed someone, but only to protect yourself.

Even when it looked bleak, you were courageous! Or just plain stubborn, but whatever! You proved you've got a life worth protecting, and that's something you're going to savor! You've got potential in you that you know can be put to helping others. You just need to control yourself and eventually it'll work itself out!

Crunch Beeftip wrote:

Get some rest, Katia. An adventurer like yourself certainly needs it after a day like today.

Yeah…yeah! I do need some rest! Because I AM an adventurer!

You gather some grass and branches as bedding and decide that'll be a perfect makeshift bed. Lying down, you gaze up at the stars that have been watching over you all of your life, guiding you on your journey ever so slightly.

Tonight, they seem to be shining just a bit brighter.


End file.
